


Trench(coat) Warfare

by Larrylunatic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Dominant Castiel, Hair-pulling, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Spanking, Top Castiel, cussing kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-27 07:20:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2684192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larrylunatic/pseuds/Larrylunatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean uses Castiel's trench coat as a cooking apron while making burgers, and he gets it all messy. Cas demands that he clean it up- with his tongue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trench(coat) Warfare

**Author's Note:**

> Set in season 9 in a universe where Cas gets to stay with Sam, Dean and Kevin after losing his grace and Dean and Cas are boyfriends.

“Dean, get your ass in here.” Cas seethed from the kitchen of the bunker. His voice, quiet and articulate, would have struck fear into a Marine drill sergeant, so it’s a miracle that Dean seemed unfazed by it. He came loping in casually, socks dragging across the creamy tiles and a smirk dragged up across his freckled face. 

“What’s up?” A voice so ignorant of the anger about to be unleashed around it. Dean leaned his hip against the silver counter that Cas stood on the other side of, holding his trench coat up as if the gesture asked a question by itself.

“That’s a coat, Cas.” Dean said, mixing amusement with confusion.

“I know what it is Dean. It’s my coat. Why is it crumpled up on the floor and covered in this sticky substance?” His empty hand pointed to the redish stain on the lapel.

“Oh that’s barbecue sauce. I, uh, I was making burgers in here and it’s a messy process and all. I couldn’t find my cooking apron so I just used the unicolor dream coat.” Dean’s reference went unnoticed, despite it being a rough reference to a bible story (Cas knew the real Word of God. Modern adaptions were a mystery to him). 

Cas’ face crinkled in disgust.

“Do you not understand how wrong that is? This coat is one of my only possessions. It is nearly attached to my existence at this point, and you abused it so casually?” Cas’ voice betrayed a hint of hurt, but it was cloaked by ten coats of anger. Dean’s smile dropped.

“Babe, it’s just a coat. It’s not even ruined. You can wash off the sauce, it won’t even leave a mark-“

“I will not be washing anything. I did not make a mess. And last time I said the Impala was ‘just a car’ and pie was ‘just sustenance’ and AC/DC was ‘just a group of noisemakers’ you pouted like a child for days. You do not get to disrespect me and expect no expression of emotions on my part!” Cas slowly gained volume as he spoke, his blue eyes murderous. He walked around the table, toward Dean, still holding his rumpled coat.

“Jesus man I-“ Dean was cut off by Cas pushing him back against the cool wall. The contrast of the icy tiles on his back and the intense heat of a pissed-off Castiel to his front made Dean’s head spin.

“You. Will. Not. Disrespect. Me.” Cas growled, pinning Dean to the wall. The taller man nodded, green eyes wide. “I want you to clean this coat now.” Cas demanded, holding the abused fabric in front of Dean’s face.

“Okay I’ll get a wash clo-“

“With your tongue.” Cas lowered his chin, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He pushed the fabric against Dean’s lips. He stuck out his tongue experimentally, all while holding eye contact with the exangel. His innocent and nervous eyes being fucked by Cas’ angered and dominant ones. A clash of blue and green, beautifully mixing. Dean started with little kitten licks to the lapel. The sweet taste of the sauce made his mouth water while the lust in Cas’ eyes fueled his actions. 

“Faster.” Cas whispered, all command and dominance. Dean complied, dragging his tongue across the tan fabric. Spit slid down his chin, but in his position he couldn’t raise a hand to wipe it. He continued licking his way down the coat, picking up speed as he went. Cas punched his hips against Dean’s, both of their hard ons straining against constricting fabric. Dean licked until his tongue burned and the coat was cleaner than it had been in years. He then looked at Cas, silently asking for direction.

“You are going to go over to that counter, strip, and open yourself up with the olive oil. I am going to watch.” Cas waited a few seconds after uttering the final syllable before he stepped back enough for Dean to pass. Dean peeled his green t shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor as quickly as possible. He undid his jeans and kicked out of them in record time. Cas’ silent, piercing glare encouraged him to follow instructions and not disappoint. He sat himself on the counter, facing Cas with his legs spread wide. He reached back with his right hand to grab the bottle of oil. Damn expensive kind too. He uncapped it and poured some of the slippery liquid onto his fingers. Sliding an index finger in, he locked eyes with his angered lover. The intensity of the eye contact was hot enough to set the bunker up in flames. Dean had to use his unoccupied has to squeeze the base of his cock and stop himself from coming just from the heat of the situation.

“Did I tell you to do that?” Cas’ voice was drenched in power, patience, and control. Dean moaned at the sound of it while shaking his head. “Then don’t fucking do it.” Cas finished, leaning against the wall, and shit if that wasn’t hot. 

Dean had a thing for cuss words coming from Cas’ mouth. He remembers the first time he heard Cas say “fuck.” Dean had been swallowing Cas’s beautiful cock in the back of the Impala while Sam was interviewing a witness or something. The single syllable had sparked something in Dean that he had been blind of until that glorious moment. Since then,Dean had been trying to coax the work out of the holy mouth constantly. Cas avoided such profanity. He said it made him feel dirty, in a bad way, but he always broke the word out when he and Dean were having really hot, rough sex. Dean’s reaction was too precious.

“Add another finger.” Cas ordered and he undid his belt, dropping it to the floor. Dean obeyed, now taking three fingers. He loved the stretch, but it wasn’t near enough to be considered satisfying by any definition of the word. He needed Cas. Good thing the dark haired man was finally advancing toward the counter. The two held a near-tangible eye contact as Cas crossed the room. He stood between Dean’s legs and put his hands on the freckled and blushing thighs. Dean’s whole body was painted with a perfect array of speckles and pink, coated with a light sheen of sweat. Cas ran his hands up and down Dean’s thighs. 

“Please Cas.” Dean gulped, head tilted back.

“I didn’t say you could speak.” Cas said as if they were having a normal conversation. He slid his eyes over every inch of Dean, drinking the view up. Screw alcohol, Dean Winchester could get any soul drunk. 

“Here’s how this is going to go. I am going to pick you up off this counter and bend you over. Then I’m going to fuck you into it. You can’t talk until after I come unless I ask you to, and you can’t come until I say so. Is this understood?” 

Cas asked, not only to sound powerful, but also to give Dean a chance to say ‘no.’ Their relationship contained no elements of nonconsenual interactions, and Cas would rather die than hurt Dean, emotionally or physically. 

“Oh yes.” Dean moaned.

“Yes what?” Cas questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, sir.” Dean gritted, blushing a slightly rosier color.

“Good.” Cas gripped Dean’s hips and lifted him off of the metal surface. He then turned the hunter and pushed onto his back with a warm palm until Dean’s chest made contact with the counter top. He made quick work of the buttons on his shirt and threw the white fabric to the floor. Then he lined himself up with Dean’s entrance and slowly pushed in. 

Dean was in everlasting awe of how good it all felt. The slow stretch, the tiny pinpricks of pain, his boyfriend’s hands holding his hips into place. Cas held himself in place for a moment, allowing Dean to adjust, until they both had lost the patience. He pulled back, almost all the way out, and then rammed back into Dean, who bit his lip in an attempt to quiet himself. Muffled moans escaped anyway. 

“I thought you had learned by now,” Cas growled while pumping his hips at a glorious pace “that you need to show me respect.” He emphasized the word by raising his right hand and bringing it down on Dean’s ass. Dean yelped, which earned him another smack to precisely the same spot. A pink hand print emerges on the skin on dean’s ass, matching the shape of the hand print on his shoulder.

“Who will you respect from now on?” Cas slapped the same spot again while maintaining speed.

“You, sir.” Dean panted against the metal, fogging it. He was so close to the edge. Cas bent his knees slightly, changing the position so that he punched into Dean’s prostate with every thrust. Dean gasped loudly, but Cas let it slide. He was lost in a universe that was Dean Winchester. His musky smell, his tight ass, his intricate freckles, his soft skin. Dean was more heavenly than anything the exangel had seen. The combination of the beautiful human’s traits drove Cas closer to the edge.

“Who makes you fall apart like this, Dean?” Cas asked, less dominance and more awe than before.

“You, sir. Only you.” Dean babbled as he slammed his hands on the counter. He distantly heard a ladle rattle to the floor. 

With Dean’s broken voice, Cas spilled into him. He squeezed the pink hips with bruising force. As he thrust through his orgasm, he gripped Dean’s hair and pulled him to a standing position so he could talk directly into his ear. 

“Go ahead baby.” Cas moaned out. With that, Dean came all over his stomach and the counter, shuttering and gasping through it. Cas kissed the back of his warm neck as he came down from his high. His stubble burned Dean’s neck, but he was too gone to care. They stayed like that for a minute, bound as one, sweat and come dripping on their beautiful skin.

“I’m really sorry about the coat, Cas. I love you and I love your coat.” Dean said as he slid Cas out of him and turned around. He wrapped his brawny arms around the shorter man, cuddling down into his neck. Cas wrapped his arms around Dean and squeezed. 

“It’s okay. I really wasn’t that upset. To be honest the thought of you wearing my coat was quite pleasurable. Just try to keep it clean?” Cas asked gently, his voice as warm as his embrace. 

“After this, I’m gonna do everything I can to make that coat dirty. This was fucking amazing.” Dean laughed against Cas’ shoulder and neck, who smiled and relaxed at the comment.

“As long as I get to see you wearing it next time.” Cas laughed, breathy and sweet.

“Deal.”

“Hey guys hav- HOLY HELL JESUS” Kevin shouted, shielding his eyes and turning to run out of the room as quickly as he entered. “I’M TELLING SAM.” He called over his shoulder as he sprinted down the hall. Dean smiled, knowing that he was due for another lecture on “sexual etiquette when living with your brother and prophet.” 

Later that night, as he and Cas sat in front of Sam and Kevin, Dean planned. 

“I don’t mind that you do it just don’t do it where we prepare food or where we eat food or where I sleep-“

“I’M SO SICK OF WALKING IN ON YOUR BARE NAKED ASSES PLEASE JUST CLOSE DOORS!” 

Dean smiled through the lecture, not listening, planning. While Cas listened and showed genuine remorse, Dean planned his next scheme of making Cas mad enough to plow him into the closest surface. 

“Are you even listening Dean?!” 

“Yeah Sammy. All ears.” (Smirk).

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos/comments!


End file.
